


tonight i'll lie awake, feeling empty

by MistressSiM



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blue Angel, Cheating, Drunken sex, F/F, F/M, One-Sided Relationship, am i gonna keep writing stuff that warrants new tags, why do i keep making new tags, why isn't "drunken sex" a tag yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4583376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressSiM/pseuds/MistressSiM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She told herself a long time ago that she would never be some straight girl's experiment. </p><p>But Rachel's on her lap and they're both a little tipsy and she's beautiful, offering herself up with a smile and a few low words, and even though she's pressed close, it still feels like Chloe's losing her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tonight i'll lie awake, feeling empty

**Author's Note:**

> For an anonymous request on my Tumblr:
> 
> "Could I request a Chloe/Rachel fic? I feel like it was super one sided but I always imagined them hooking up when drunk and Rachel brushing it off but Chloe not being able to."
> 
> Title from Paramore's song [Pressure](https://youtu.be/y-MaaxgdUT4). This is a sad trend of mine. I just can't think of good titles. It's become my trademark or something.
> 
> I hope this is what you were looking for, Anon! I want you to know that writing this was the best kind of torture.

"Do you want to skip the next class?"

Rachel's pretty, smiling face blocks the clouds from Chloe's view. The sunlight hits her just so, has her hair glowing, and for a moment, it takes Chloe's breath away. Just when the silence that follows edges towards awkward, when Chloe  _knows_ that Rachel knows why she's speechless, Rachel sits next to her on the grass. She extends a slender finger, pokes Chloe's cheek, and raises a brow, as if to say, "Well?"

"No," Chloe scoffs, weakly. "I want to stare into Mr. Jefferson's eyes and absorb the pretentious not-lesson of the day." 

It's a lame save. She doesn't even take Mr. Jefferson's class.

Rachel's cheerful expression shutters at that, darkening for just a moment. The darkness is gone in a flash, almost as quickly as it came along, and Chloe makes a note of it but doesn't comment. Rachel has been— _different,_ lately. Less bright. It's nothing too major, but she seems faded, somehow.

"I'm serious, Chloe. Let's just—let's go to the junkyard, or something. Maybe we can get Frank to buy us some beers."

"Yeah. Okay, I guess." Chloe agrees. 

Rachel brightens and stands, the soft cotton of her deep blue of her skirt swaying in a breeze. She reaches a manicured hand out to help Chloe up. Her nails are freshly painted, pastel pink and blue and green, and it should be tacky, but she's  _Rachel Amber._ She could make anything work. She doesn't release Chloe's hand as they make their way towards the parking lot, cheerfully ignoring the curious looks sent their way. Her grip is so tight that it hurts.

* * *

 They find Frank by the shore, curled up with his dog against the ocean breeze like an idiot, and Chloe knows she's petty for being annoyed with him for that. She doesn't care.

(Max loved to come here when they were kids, and she'd lay her head on Chloe's lap and babble away about every little thing she wanted to do, every photo she wanted to take of every special moment. Chloe remembers thinking that Arcadia Bay would never be enough for Max. She was right.)

"I'm not selling right now." Frank barks, not turning around. Pompidou cranes his neck around as they draw close, and perks up, letting out a loud bark. He trots over to Rachel and buffs his nose into her thigh. She chuckles.

"Hey, boy," She coos. "Who's a good boy?" She scratches behind his ears. Ridiculous. Rachel could charm Putin.

Frank is stony-faced as he looks over his shoulder at them.

"The fuck do you two want? You're always slinkin' around."

"We need—" Chloe begins.

"Read my lips:  _I'm. Not. Selling. Today._ " Frank deliberates. He whistles sharply, and his dog ambles back over to him, ears flat against his head.

"Listen, asshole," Chloe says, irritated.

"So you're not selling," Rachel interjects. Her voice is more hesitant than than Chloe's ever heard, almost repentant. "But maybe you're buying?"

There's this tension between them, something that makes Chloe feel like she's the lone audience member of some bizzare play. Rachel shoots her a warning look when Chloe opens her mouth once more. Feeling small, she huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. 

Frank says nothing. Rachel moves close, slips her arms through the circle of Chloe's and holds on tight, as if she's some kind of anchor. Rachel looks crestfallen.

"Let's just go, Chlo."

Chloe pauses. "Are you sure?"

"Wait," Frank calls. "Wait. Jesus. Okay. What do you need?"

Rachel abruptly releases Chloe's arm and makes a beeline for Frank. Chloe doesn't think she's been this confused in a long time.

"Wait for me in the truck, please, Chloe?" Rachel asks. Not waiting for a reply, Rachel wraps her arms around herself and walks off. She stands next to Frank, shoulders high and tense. Suddenly, Chloe wishes that she'd just stayed at Blackwell.

* * *

When Rachel hops into Chloe's truck, she looks completely content. 

"What the fuck was that?" Chloe hisses.

"Hm? Oh, nothing. Frank said he'd bring us a pack of beer to the junkyard." She says, running her fingers through her hair. She does this whenever she's thinking hard. It's one of the first things Chloe noticed about her. She's still unable to decide whether or not it's endearing or annoying.

"Don't change the subject." Chloe chides her, even though she's almost certainly going to drop it. Still, it's frustrating, being stonewalled.

She glances at Rachel's busy hands as she goes to town in her immaculate hair.

"Your bracelet's missing." Chloe points out.

Rachel stills. "What bracelet?"

"Your favorite bracelet. The one you wear almost every day." Chloe answers, voice sharp with mounting agitation. "Just stop it, Rachel. I'm not stupid."

"I must have dropped it."

"Bullshit."

Rachel frowns, and presses her hands down on her knees as she leans over the gearshift. Her hair, fragrant and silky, falls over the elegant slope of her shoulders.

"What's up with you? I want to spend some time with you, and all you can do is fuss. Can we just go to the junkyard? Please?"

It's a brilliant deflection, not quite obvious, but Chloe's smarter than anyone will ever give her credit for. She narrows her eyes and starts the truck.

* * *

Frank left the beers in their little hideout, along with a curt note demanding swift repayment. Rachel claps her hands, delighted anyways. 

"I'll pay him for it, don't you worry."

Chloe just nods, leaning down and twisting a can from the plastic that holds the eight pack together. She pops the seal and takes a hearty swig. At this point, she's so confused and irritated that she could use a drink, a smoke, and maybe a nap to boot. _  
_

"That fucking guy," Chloe huffs, though she's watching Rachel flit about and can only think,  _this fucking girl._ She swallows another mouthful of beer, pleased at the familiar warmth that settles over her.

"Give it a rest, Chloe." Rachel says, eagerly popping the seal on her own beer before plopping down on the floor. She smiles up at Chloe and pats the space next to her.

"Never have I ever?" She offers, hazel eyes following Chloe's face as she sits.

"Why the fuck not?" Chloe shrugs. She's still a little pissesd, but this is an unvoiced truce that she's willing to take.

Rachel laughs, "You've probably already finished off half your can."

"So give me another one." Chloe orders. Rachel pulls another can from the pack and passes it to her. Their fingers brush, warm against the chilled aluminum, and it feels electric. Chloe jerks the can away.

"You go first." Rachel urges her, smiling wide.

"Never have I ever... flirted with a store clirk to get something for free." Chloe says. After a beat, she drinks. Rachel laughs, and does the same.

"Okay, okay." She taps her fingers against her chin. "Never have I ever walked in on my parents."

Laughing bitterly, Chloe takes an extra long drink.

"Real dad  _and_ step-mistake." She explains.

"Ooh," Rachel says, wincing. "I am so sorry."

"So am I, shit."

They play until they're both buzzed and there's one can left that they share, taking miniscule sips for each round. Chloe learns that Rachel has been to Paris (she sympathetically pats Chloe's hand when she remembers what the city means to her), that Rachel killed her annoying cousin's hamster accidentally on purpose, that she has slept with an older man, that she's never licked a lamppost in winter but has always wanted to. It's weird, she thinks, how you can know someone as long as she's known Rachel and still learn something new about them each day.

Just when Chloe's about to push the can towards Rachel, offer her the rest and crash, Rachel squares her shoulders and releases a loud sigh.

"Okay. I wanna try something, here. You promise not to freak out?"

She asks, looking up at Chloe from underneath the thick fan of her eyelashes. 

"Cross my heart." Chloe replies, and it's an absentminded, automatic thing, because she's not really paying attention.

Rachel passes the can into Chloe's hand, warm fingers closing over hers, and then she places her other hand on Chloe's shoulder. She slides onto Chloe's lap. She's a little unsteady, so her knees catch on the fabric of her gotten dress. She lurches forward when she tries to dislodge it, knocking their foreheads together.

"Smooth." Rachel mutters.

"You okay? What—what are you doing?" Chloe asks, as catching Rachel by the hips.. She's expecting her to move, but she simply wraps her arms around Chloe's neck and holds on tight.

"Never have I ever been with a girl." She murmurs, eyes bright. Looking directly into her eyes, Chloe finishes off the rest of the beer.

"But," Rachel continues, "I've always wanted to know what it's like."

Not for the first time, Chloe wishes that she never met Rachel Amber. She wants to push her off her lap and leave. She's  _wrong_ for this. She probably knows how Chloe feels.

She told herself a long time ago that she would never be some straight girl's experiment.

But Rachel's on her lap and they're both a little tipsy and she's beautiful, offering herself up with a smile and a few words, and even though she's pressed close, it still feels like Chloe's losing her.

"This isn't fair," Chloe says, with feeling.

Rachel must know that she's gearing up for a diatribe, because she leans in, and quiets her with a kiss. It's awful, at first. They're fumbling like the virgins that they haven't been for years, and their teeth clack so much it hurts. Rachel breaks away with a laugh, high and just a little hysterical, and then Chloe laughs and they're both cackling like fiends, and it feels like the days before they started to fall apart at the seams.

"Let's try that again. Yeah?" Chloe whispers, once they've calmed themselves.

Rachel nods, and  _God,_ she looks so pretty as she is, blushing and smiling, vulnerable in her inexperience. This time, it's Chloe who initiates the kiss, and it's slow, and everything Chloe has ever wanted for the past year and a half. Rachel sighs dreamily when they part, closing her eyes. Her lips are swollen and pink. Chloe can't look away.

"I've seen the way you look at me." Rachel says. 

She pushes up onto her knees, and fists her hands in her long skirt. She pulls it up around her thighs, exposing the lovely smooth skin hidden below. 

"Touch me."

Chloe knows what she means—but she wants to pull off Rachel's clothes, and run her hands over every inch if her skin, find the quirks and imperfections on her body, if there are any. She wants to take her time. She wants to savor this.

But they don't have the time, and they've got to be back at Blackwell before curfew. She'll take what she can get. There's always next time.

Rachel gasps when Chloe grasps her hip and rucks her lower half close. Her hands fly to Chloe's shoulders, her grip tight. Chloe slips her other hand up Rachel's skirt, pulls her underwear down, and cups her. She's surprised to find she's wet already.

"Chloe, come on, don't tease." Rachel whimpers, hissing as Chloe passes her fingers over the hood her clit. She throws her head back on a moan when Chloe starts moving slow circles against her. Chloe brings her off this way, first, the tips of her index and pointer fingers fingers pressed insistently against the hard bud of her arousal. When she's ready, Chloe slides her middle finger around her lower lips, and then inside, thrusting slow and deep.

Rachel rides her hand with slow, controlled rolls of her hips. Chloe crooks her finger, teasingly, just enough to make Rachel chase the feeling that comes with it. She's vocal and mobile, moaning abd sighing and hissing through her teeth as she throws her head. Her hair is a fly away mess. Most ends up plastered to her forehead and neck, sticking from the light sweat she's built up.

When she comes, though, she's silent, seizing up and breathing heavily through her nose. Chloe rubs circles on her back.

"Okay?" She asks.

"Okay," Rachel confirms. "Now you."

Her hands are trembling as they reach for Chloe's belt. They falter completely when Chloe slides her slick fingers into her mouth.

"Hey," Chloe murmurs. "Slow down. Are you okay? Do you need a moment?"

Rachel's looking at her like she never has before, eyes round and glassy. The pretty flush that had overtaken her face is gone, leaving her face white.

"You know what? I just. I don't know what I was—Chloe, I have to go. I'll walk. I have to go. I have to go."

Still white-faced, Rachel covers her mouth with her hand.

"Oh, my God." She whispers.

"What the fuck, Rachel?" Chloe barks. Horrified by the telltale way her breath hitches, she shoves Rachel off of her lap.

"Chloe, I—"

"No," Chloe says. She covers her eyes with one hand. "Just go."

She should be worried—Rachel's buzzed, and Blackwell is a mile away at least and Rachel is a very pretty girl, but all she can think of is how cheated she feels. 

"Maybe you can call Frank to get you." Chloe spits. 

Rachel fumbles about, pulling up her underwear and smoothing her hair down. She snatches up her bag, and stumbles out of their hideout. Chloe stays idle until the trembling stops and the tears don't come. She undoes her belt, shoves her hand down her pants, and brings herself off. Even though it just makes her feel even more alone than she felt before, it takes the edge off. 

The sad thing is, when Rachel calls on her tomorrow—because she will, as she does every single time they have a big argument—Chloe will answer. They'll awkwardly talk about every single thing except for what happened. They'll make plans. They'll hang out. Rinse, and repeat.

For Rachel, who doesn't believe in past regrets, it will probably be like it never happened. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've got prompts on hold for now, but if you want to discuss LiS with me (or anything, really), you can find me on [my Tumblr](http://sim-writes.tumblr.com).
> 
> Posted from a wonky phone with wonky autocorrect. Please excuse any mistakes I left behind, and tell me about them so I can fix them.


End file.
